


If, When, Maybe

by orange_8_hands



Series: Nails and Teeth [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angels, Body Image, Dreams, Gen, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Pride, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:48:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_8_hands/pseuds/orange_8_hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know this is a dream (doesn't mean it isn't real)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If, When, Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my LJ on 6-24-12, but I forgot to move it here sooner.

  
You know this is a dream because he has only said he was proud, once, and Azazel was actually the one saying it (was the reason you knew Azazel was there), and so you laugh because really, angels, maybe if you stopped picking up tips from demons it would be easier to tell you apart.   
  
The man who looks like John Winchester but is not actually your father is sitting on the couch next to you, watching baseball (you don't like baseball, asshole angels, but actually Dad didn't realize that one either, did he), watching the screen because he's being emotional and neither of you handle emotions very well.   
  
"I'm so proud of you," he says again, and smiles his smile, the one you see maybe once a year, if that, and never directed towards you, you didn't make your father smile like that, you never figured out how. "I know you don't like it, I know you're not comfortable giving your body to Michael, but it's the right thing to do."  
  
The thing is, your body is good for very certain things. It is good for fucking, and it is good for (killing) hunting, and it is good for getting you from point a to point b. Your body is your baby, like your baby, and you feed it and wash it and run lazy hands over it, smooth comfort, but like your baby - see, John-double, you're dead, I remember that car accident - it can be broken. It can be ruined, and no matter how many times you build it back up, it will always have the scars from before, even when feathery assholes try to take them away and leave calling card handprints on you.  
  
(Your body has never just been yours. Your body is a shield, and a sword, and a bribe when it needs to be. Your body became family property when you were four years old and it will always belong just slightly to those who have taken chunks out of it. Your body is not why you're saying no to Michael, whatever you say out loud.)  
  
"I miss you Daddy," you say, because you are weak, have proven that again and again, and this angel wearing your father is playacting and that means you can too. "I miss you so fucking much."  
  
"I'm right here, Deanna," he says, face and voice puzzled, and then it shifts and Alastair is there, in his latest meat suit, holding your hand in claws and saying, "I've always been proud of you, Little Dee," and you have a knife in your hand and a soul in front of you and maybe this isn't a dream, maybe you are in hell, back in hell angels threw you back in hell (wasn't that the first threat they laid at you, Cas in her stolen human body?) and you watch the knife carve and carve and carve an-  
  
You wake, eyes wide, and don't make a noise.  
  
You don't say yes.  
  
(Yet.)  



End file.
